


Novobranets (The Recruit)

by InvictaAnimi



Series: Angel of Moscow (Ангел московский) [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bratva leader Castiel, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mafia AU, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Prison AU, Russian Castiel (Supernatural), Russian Mafia, explicit violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:07:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24872776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InvictaAnimi/pseuds/InvictaAnimi
Summary: Castiel is the Avtoritet of the Solntsevskaya Bratva. They are the largest organized crime syndicate in Russia, and one of the wealthiest in the world. Castiel was called back to Moscow to serve his Pakhan, Mikhail, but he cannot leave Dean in prison, even if he is ordered to do just that.Dean is more than his lover. He is his Novobranets, a highly coveted position that few will ever reach. As Cas's chosen recruit, he is elevated to the upper echelons of the Bratva. He is now powerful beyond his understanding, and he's never set foot inside of Russia. Yet.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Angel of Moscow (Ангел московский) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1398958
Comments: 181
Kudos: 332





	1. You Came For Me

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's been a year. I promised that I would write the sequel a year ago. I never thought it would take this long, but it's finally here. 
> 
> If you haven't read "I'll Come for You", I highly recommend that you read that first. This story picks up immediately where that one left off, and I really don't repeat anything from the first one. 
> 
> A note on the Russian translations:
> 
> There will be so many Russian translations in this story that I thought it best to add the English beside it in parentheses rather than making you go back to the top of the page to see what they mean. Otherwise, it would take you completely out of the story each time, as well as be aggravating. 
> 
> Also, these are the phonetic translations. For example: “Look at me” is translated in the story to “Smotri na menya”. In the Cyrillic alphabet, it looks like this: Смотри на меня. I wanted to make sure that is understood because I only see the phonetic version in stories, understandably. The Cyrillic alphabet that Russian actually uses is quite different from our own, and it takes a while to catch on to what sounds the letters make. I’ve been studying the language for almost a year, and I’m still a complete rookie.
> 
> I don't know exactly how long this story will be, but I think it will be similar to the last one. Maybe longer. 
> 
> Alright. I'm done talking. Enjoy!

Dean re-reads Cas’s letter at least two more times after Bart quietly leaves. He’s incredibly tempted to put Bart in the hospital as a parting gift, but knowing his luck, he’d end up in solitary and screw up Cas’s time line. No. It’s better if he just packs his necessary belongings and says discreet goodbyes to the men. 

Cas had to leave without notice, but he has the luxury of patting his new friends on the back and thanking them for their help.

The first stop is to Yevgeny, his patient teacher. If Dean were to line up all of the Bratva members in the prison, and pick the one who most defies the stereotype of a mobster, it would be this man.

“Don’t stand in the doorway, Vrach. Come in.” (Doc)

Dean smiles fondly at him and takes a seat on his bunk. Yevgeny is tinkering with a whetstone at his desk, and doesn’t look up until the moment stretches out without words. Finally, he turns to Dean. 

“What is it?”

In Russian, just in case they are overheard, Dean tells him, “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

Dropping his project, the man stares dumbfounded. “He is coming?”

Dean nods curtly, and he can’t help the satisfied smile from creeping up. 

Yevgeny seems to consider the news for a long moment and then gives his nod of acceptance. Gathering two small glasses, he pours shots of vodka, and then stands and approaches Dean, who stands as well. After they toast each other, they meet in a brotherly embrace, which the older man uses to hide his warning. 

“Be careful with the Pakhan. His Avtoritet has never defied his orders. Never. He will be angry, and I would hate for you to pay the price for Krushnic’s rebellion.”

“Thank you.” Dean says quietly and they part. “Thank you for everything.”

“You are good student,” Yevgeny brushes off the praise humbly. “It is easy to teach you.”

“Where will you go when you get out?”

“I have only one year left. Perhaps it will be time to go home.”

“Will I see you there?”

“I would like that very much, Malysh.” (young man - term of endearment)

  
The other goodbyes are much the same. They cannot celebrate for fear of calling attention to their wing of the prison, but he does drink a toast with each man. Thankfully, several of them are housed together, so he’s only partially shit-faced by the time he gets back to his room. Immediately, he starts coffee and drinks a full water bottle. It won’t do to be too drunk.

He is usually careful to follow the Theives’s Code, which is the ethical code the Bratva is ruled by. He has already broken one of the few rules by being a former member of the military, so he knows he has to tread lightly on the rest, including not to lose himself to drink.

  
*****

  
At what amounts to the middle of the night, his door clicks and slides open just before Alexei wakes him with a gentle shake. There is a guard standing by outside of his cell, but he is obviously there to assist. Alexei hands him street clothes to put on, and then they are on their way.

In an unhurried walk, they wander down hallways, go through normally inaccessible doors, and climb stairways Dean has never seen. It is driving him mad to know that Cas is so close and be forced into this snail-like gait. Psychically, he is forcing their escort to feel his urgency. It doesn’t help in the slightest. In fact, the asshole might actually be moving slower. Finally, they emerge on the roof, and with only a gesture of the hand, Dean is prompted to walk over to the helicopter sitting on the helipad. 

It is surreal to try to make out figures in the dark and misty night. Each step clarifies his path though; brings him closer to Cas. When he does catch sight of him, he recognizes the shock of dark hair first. His steps quicken, his heart races. Cas is standing there looking like a king. He’s wearing a very fitted gray suit with a blood red shirt, the edges of his tattoos peeking from the collar. He is gorgeous, and Dean is overcome. 

He’s been strong through the past weeks, put on a brave face and thrown himself into study. He knows the entire organization of the Solntsevskaya Bratva, understands their rules and his Russian is getting passable. His course of study has been a great deal different than what he could have picked up in school. He might not know some common words, like those for animals and plants, but he knows the terminology of medicine, the names of weapons, and the vocabulary of banking in great detail.

So when he reaches Cas, when he is pulled in for a tight hug, he falls apart. His scent is different. There is something rich and spicy overlaying the natural wood smoke and honey of his skin. Of course. Cas has been out in the world, not confined to the prison. He’s wearing cologne. Dean breathes it in and it makes his mouth water even through his trembling.

“I’ve missed you, Dean.”

That voice is even deeper than Dean remembers. He speaks his own mind in the language he’s come to use more often that his native tongue. “Vy prishli za mnoy! Spasibo.” (You came for me! Thank you.) 

Cas chuckles. “I would say that it was nothing, but we both know that isn’t true. I’m sorry that it took me so long to make everything work.”

Dean is losing the battle to his emotional state. Tears spring to his eyes, even though he clenches his jaw to try to force them back. It’s just too much. Yesterday, he was lost in despair. He never thought that he’d be able to see Cas again, let alone be held by him. 

He had been making plans for what he would be required to do once his sentence was up. After all, he was a new member of the Solntsevskaya Bratva whether Cas was going to take him on as his Novobranets or not. He knew that his path would be hard on his own, much harder than his time in prison, to be honest.

Now, he is saved from that painful reality. He will start his career by Cas’s side, learning the organization from its upper echelons down. He will have the youngest Avtoritet in their history to give him advice and aid him in navigating the world of organized crime in Moscow. 

The instant relief of a tremendous burden feels amazing, but it weakens his resolve. The first sob bursts from his lips while he buries his head further into Cas’s neck. He refuses to look up and let anyone see his weakness. He won’t give them the satisfaction.

“Shh, dorogoy. Everything is fine.” (sweetheart)

Dean slams the door on his emotions. ‘Lock it up, Winchester!’ he berates himself. Within a few deep breaths, he lifts his head, his face an impassive mask once more. He nods to Cas, who is still scrutinizing him. Dean opens the door to the helicopter and gestures for Cas to enter. When they are settled inside, Cas stops the pilot from starting the engine. 

Cas is concerned about the emotion riding Dean. This isn’t happy to see him or happy to be out of prison. This is barely holding it together. Something did not go according to plan while he was gone. When he offers his hand for reassurance, Dean has a difficult time letting go of it.

They need to leave, but Cas wants to know what is wrong. “What is bothering you?”

Dean quirks that cocky smirk at him which pisses him off. “Nothing, Cas. I’m ready to get the fuck out of Dodge.”

“Bullshit.”

Dean’s eyes drop minutely, but he stays silent. 

“Tell me.”

Dean sighs and rolls his eyes. Cas snatches his jaw and forces him to make eye contact. Low and deep, he warns, “Pokazhi mne uvazheniye!” (Show me respect!)

Dean softens and drops his eyes. “I didn’t sleep. I was getting ready to leave-”

  
“You’ve had weeks to prepare,” Cas interrupts.

“No, I’ve had hours, Cas.”

“Explain.”

Shit. Now he’s done it. “I’ll explain once we’re on our way. This can’t be smart to stay on top of the prison I’m escaping from.”

“You’ll explain now.”

There’s no getting around it. “Fine. I just got your letter yesterday. That’s why I’m such a basket case. Up until then, I thought you left without even a goodbye.”

Cas doesn’t say a word in response, so Dean peeks up at his face. The rage gathering on his brow is mighty. His fury can be felt like an electrical charge. 

“I explained. Can we go now? Please, Cas?”

The sudden boom of Russian curses is the only thing preceding the door opening. Cas is on the tarmac before either he or the pilot can react, striding towards the door where the guard and Alexei still stand. Nervously, they glance at each other, both hoping that the other will handle the volatile situation. The guard takes his gun out of its holster, which Alexei recognizes as the exact wrong instinct. 

In swift but deferent Russian, Alexei explains, “You can’t go back inside, Pakhan.” (boss)

“Get out of my way.”

“I cannot. I will not let you lose yourself in your anger and be captured in this prison again.”

“They will not dare keep me here, but I will kill you if you don’t move.”

Alexei crosses his arms over his chest and shores up every ounce of strength. “I will protect you, even if it is from yourself.”

Cas growls at him after a beat, but turns and paces away. Dean catches up to him and tries to speak. “Do not get in the middle of this, malysh.”

“I am in the middle of it. You’re upset because of me.”

“No, you did nothing wrong.”

Dean looks over at Alexei for support, but the man holds his hands up, placating his boss. The guard, who has been watching this tense conversation, finally speaks up. “What seems to be the problem? You were supposed to be gone before first light.”

Cas easily switches over into English, his tone and demeanor transitioning silkily. “I apologize. We forgot something very important. I need to speak to my lieutenant for just a moment and then we’ll be on our way.”

Before Alexei and Dean have a chance to argue, Cas pins them with a murderous glare. Alexei, an enforcer with decades of experience, takes a step back before he catches himself. Dean has to admit, the authority and conviction of that look make him want to drop to his knees. 

The guard leaves to go get Bartholomew, and now they wait. Cas continues pacing, stopping to ask Dean questions as they cross his mind.

“Did you ask Bart if I left word for you?”

“Yes, when they told me you were gone and explained that I couldn’t talk about you.”

“Who else was there?”

“I was. As was Grigory.” Alexei jumps in. Cas stops and lunges toward him like a strike of lightning. Alexei’s throat is in his hand before he can react. “You knew that I planned to come back. I confided in you.”

Alexei is turning a deep, worrisome red, but he tries to speak. “I apologize, Pakhan. You were gone, and I was forbidden from speaking of your plans.”

“So you let him suffer?” is asked between clenched jaws, just inches from his face. His grip must tighten, because the color of Alexei’s face is heading toward purple. Struggling to form the words, he says, “It was not my place.”

“Your place? Your place is to take care of those I leave in your care. Your place is to know when orders must be ignored to keep from making a situation worse.”

Alexei is losing consciousness, but looks to Dean. “I am sorry. If I had told you, he would have killed me.”

“Are you satisfied, dorogoy?”

“Yes,” Dean says somberly. Alexei disappointed him, but he understands why he kept the truth from him. He remembers several times over the past few weeks where the man tried to cheer him up and give him hope. He sees now that he was hinting at the truth, hoping that Dean would pick up the hints. He had been too devastated to even look up from his place at the bottom, though. He couldn’t even lift his head high enough to think that there was another fate in store for him. 

“He has always been a friend.” Alexei tries to smile at him, just as he sags in Cas’s grip. Cas guides him down to the ground and turns to look worriedly at Dean. 

“He is fine. He will sleep and wake up with a headache, nothing more.”

“Cas?”

The Russian stands and brushes his hands off before taking Dean’s jaw gently in his fingertips. “Yes, vozlyublennaya?” (sweetheart)

“I don’t want you to do anything that will cause problems for you. I know that you’re already going against orders.”

Cas brushes his lips tenderly against Dean’s, wishing that he could get lost in the feel and taste of his love. Instead, he has to mete out swift justice that most likely will raise the heat on the already boiling pot he’s put himself in with Moscow. Backing up just enough to see Dean’s eyes, which are as filled with lust as his own, he murmurs. “Don’t worry about me, dorogoy. You can trust that I will do what is appropriate.”

Dean claims another chaste kiss just as the door swings open. The guard is shoving Bart through the door, looking disheveled and cautious. Once he sees Alexei on the ground, and the malicious sneer on Cas’s face, he starts babbling. 

“Let me explain.”

“Oh, there is no need to explain,” Cas begins with saccharine sincerity. “I know exactly why you chose to keep the truth from Dean.”

Glancing back and forth between the two men, he finally stops on Dean. “You couldn’t wait to cry to your daddy, now, could you, little mouse?”

The crack of Cas’s hand cuts off his last word, and knocks Bart to the ground. Leaning down to grab the man by the hair and pull him up, Cas rebuts, “He didn’t say a word about you. Once I figured out why he hadn’t slept, he tried to convince me that you weren’t worth my time. I thought otherwise.”

“I’m sorry. I thought I was doing him a favor.”

“Why?” he snaps and shakes the man.

“I didn’t think that you would actually disobey Mikhail. I thought it would hurt less if he didn’t have that hope to begin with.”

“You fucking coward.” Cas snarls and shoves him down again. “You were jealous of him, so you made him pay, didn’t you?”

  
“No!”

Cas straddles him and brings down a fist with as much torque and force as he can muster. Then he does it again. Dean watches silently, his arms crossed over his chest. 

“Liar. I’ve watched you stare at him, envy and hatred in your heart. You couldn’t just do the simple thing I asked of you.”

“I did. I had him training this whole time.”

With another strike, one of Cas’s knuckles splits, but he hardly notices. “You pitiful insect. Did you once offer him the comfort of truth? Did you remind him that he carries my mark? Did you tell him the plans I have for him?”

Bart cries out in agony, knowing now that Cas is not going to discount his crimes because of their years of friendship. It is too personal. He recognizes that his life is all but forfeit. 

“You’re right. I let my emotions cloud my judgment. Surely you see how differently you treat him. You have never given anyone preferential treatment, and suddenly, he is given status above us all. I don’t understand how you could pick him above all of us. He is not Russian. He worked for the U.S. government. He should not be allowed to be called my brother.” 

“It is you who are not worthy of him, not the other way around.” Cas spits and inflicts more damage to the other man’s face. “You have been with the Bratva for over a decade, and you have never once contributed anything unique. You sit back and follow orders. You use me to elevate your status, because you couldn’t do it on your own. You don’t have any ideas of your own. This is the best situation you could hope for, and now you’ve destroyed that with your pettiness.”

Bart is whispering, pleading with Castiel to stop. He won’t receive any more mercy than he showed to Dean. “Did you watch him grieve? Did you delight in his pain? You did, didn't you?”

“Yes. I wanted him to hurt for taking my place.” Bart slurs the words; his contusions swelling and making his words thick. 

“He didn’t take your place, Bartholomew. The second he showed interest in joining us, he catapulted to the top. He’s so far above your level that you aren’t worthy of licking his boots.”

“He will reign by my side, not because of what I give him, but because of who he is. I’m opening the door, but he will set the world on fire all on his own.”

Misery and pain look up at Dean. “I’m sorry.”

Dean shakes his head. “No, you’re sorry that you got caught.”

“Are you satisfied, Dean?”

“No, but we need to leave, Cas. I can hear guards coming in. Shift change is about to happen, and then we’ve got a whole other crew to deal with.”

“What would you do in my place?” Cas’s eyes never leave Bart’s. 

“I would bust him down to the lowest position in your organization. Make him earn his way up again.”

“No,” Bart wails. “Please, no.”

Cas nods. “That’s merciful compared to what I had planned, but it is fair.”

With Bart still sobbing, Cas drags him back to his feet and shoves him toward the guard who has been anxiously watching the entire scene. Alexei is awake again, warily watching as well. Cas nods to Alexei, who bows to him formally. It isn’t a common occurrence with the Russians, but an unmistakable show of respect. 

Dean puts his hand on Cas’s shoulder to guide him away, but Bart isn’t quite done. “What did you have planned for me? I would rather take your punishment than let him get to decide my fate.”

Cas turns and states flatly, “I was going to toss you off the roof.”

Without another word, Bart storms to the edge, and with a nasty sneer of defiance lets himself fall backwards. They hear the sickening thump below, the chaos of people reacting to the grisly sight, and a second later, the alarm locking down the prison. 

“Go,” Alexei says. “I will handle this.”

Cas and Dean run for the helicopter, which has its rotors spinning long before they start in its direction.

*****

  
Cas lets Dean stew in his thoughts on the trip to the small charter airport and once again on their trip to New York City. He is content to simply sit next to the lovely man and soak in his warmth, his presence. They will have the rest of their lives to reconnect.

From New York, they will have to take a commercial flight to Moscow, but it won’t leave until later in the evening, so Castiel has booked a hotel for them to stay in until their flight leaves. When they deboard the small plane, Dean follows along behind him, shouldering his bag and staring at the ground. When they get into the town car that’s waiting for them on the tarmac, Dean finally speaks. 

“Why would he make that choice?”

“I don’t know, malysh. It seems a waste.”

“Yes! Fuck.” Dean lets his head drop back against the plush seat back.

“You have nothing to feel guilty for.”

“I don’t.”

“Don’t you?”

Dean meets his eye, his lips pursed and plump. Cas shouldn’t be distracted by something so simple. He most definitely shouldn’t be getting hard while Dean is distraught over a man’s death, but it has been weeks of near constant work all without this gorgeous creature by his side. He’s only human. 

Thinking of the most hideous diseases he can fathom, he actively tries to suppress his body’s inappropriate reactions.

Scratching his thumb over his brow, Dean confesses, “Well, it is partially my fault. If he hadn’t been so pissed off at me, maybe none of this would have happened.”

“If he hadn’t been pissed at you, he would have found another target, someone else to blame for his failings. It is no more your fault than it is mine.”

Dean nods his head, but looks down at his hands. 

“Dean, smotri na menya.” (Look at me.)

“Bartholomew chose a cowardly death rather than face the humiliation of losing his rank. That is not our way. We are survivors.” Cas taps his hip where the tattoo DSS sits. “Remember, Dum Spiro Spero; While I breathe, I hope.” 

Dean quirks an uneasy smile and gets side-tracked by the view out the window. 

Cas adds, “He was lashing out at you because he couldn’t own his own mistakes. Don’t let him hand you a burden that isn’t yours to carry. You will have enough of them of your own.”

Their conversation ends while they depart the car and get checked in at the front desk.

Dean looks around the lobby, noticing the sparkling crystal above his head, the polished brass shining in the natural light from the wall of windows, and the scent of fresh cut flowers in several over sized vases. This place is spendy, and they will only be here for a few hours before heading to Moscow. He isn’t sure how he feels about this different side of Cas. Now that they are not limited to their penitentiary uniform, there really isn’t any level ground for them. Cas is superior in all ways, and he’s bristling at being confronted by that fact. He just prays that Cas doesn’t realize how out of his league he really is.

“Thank you, Mr. Novak. Enjoy your stay.”

Dean doesn’t react until they are safely inside their room. “Novak, huh?”

Cas shrugs and tosses the key on the coffee table. “I’m traveling without security, so it’s best to use a pseudonym. Also, I’m supposed to still be in prison, as are you.”

“Do I have a fake name, too?” Dean teases on his way to invade the other man’s personal space. Now that they are finally alone, Dean needs to have Cas under his hands. He wants to kiss every blessedly warm inch of skin. He won’t be satisfied until he can convince himself that Cas isn’t a mirage, that he won’t disappear again without warning.

“Our passports are real enough, but your identity had to be altered.”

Dean grins. “What name did you give me, Cas?”

Cas steps back and heads to the mini bar. Reaching into the small refrigerator, he pulls out two small bottles of decent vodka and pours them into heavy highball glasses. Dean scowls. His flirtation is being ignored. Cas doesn’t hesitate unless there is reason, so it’s enough to give him pause. 

“Before I answer you, let’s have a drink.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

Cas makes the rude sound that always accompanies his displeasure. Shoving the glass into Dean’s hand, he grouses, “Just drink, and I’ll explain.”

Dean swallows a healthy gulp and waits. Fidgeting with his glass before he pours the entire drink to the back of his throat, Cas begins, “To be in the Bratva, you must be Russian. Obviously, the name Dean Winchester is about as Russian as Fidel Castro.”

Dean smiles and takes another sip. He hasn’t seen Cas nervous like this before, and it’s remarkably charming.

“I chose Kir for you because it means leader, just like Dean. It will be on all of your official documents, but I will still call you by your given name. It can be another nick name for all anyone needs to know. You can choose what you wish to be known by.”

“Kir,” Dean tries it out. With a shrug, he says, “I like it. It’s easy enough.”

Cas gives him a tight smile. “So why are you being all weird? That wasn’t a revelation that requires slamming two shots of vodka.”

Setting his glass down, Cas takes Dean’s hand. His features are a blank mask with the only hint of emotion sitting in his clenched jaw. “Now that you’re out of prison, you have no need of my protection anymore. You owe me nothing.”

Dean’s heart pounds with all of the open-ended directions that this conversation could fly in. This sounds very much like a parting of ways. But that can’t be. Cas is taking him to Russia. Dean tries to formulate words, but even his thoughts have abandoned him. He merely takes a step back and shakes his head.

“I will understand if you do not wish to continue our affair. I will still be your mentor. Nothing about that arrangement will change.”

Dean withdraws his hand, anguish in his eyes. “You don’t…you don’t want me?”

Leaping to correct the misconception, Cas interrupts him. “No! Dean. I want you desperately. You are everything that I desire. It has been torture to be away from you.”

“Then why would you say that?!” Dean yells, emotion riding high and pinking up his face. “Why would you worry me like that?”

“I want you to have the choice.”

“I made my choice, Cas. I chose you. I will always choose you.” Dean’s conviction is fierce, and Cas is humbled by the steadfastness of his pledge.

Cas sighs out his relief and sags into the couch behind him. Scrubbing his hands over his his face, he chuckles. “Thank all that is holy. I don’t know what I would have done if you had denied me.”

Feeling the need to show Cas how very much he is wanted and appreciated, Dean sets his glass down and kneels between his legs. Silently, with only the flames of desire meeting in their gazes, Dean runs his hands reverently over the hard planes of his chest. Popping the buttons along the way, he parts the deep red shirt and then pulls the undershirt out of his pants and up over his muscled abdomen. The colorful chaos of inked images never fails to excite Dean, but he gives extra attention to the tiny scar that is left from the first time they met. He knew that he did a good job with the sutures, and he licks over the skin to feel the thin bump under his tongue. 

Cas groans and sinks deeper into the couch, almost slouching to put his body within Dean’s grasp. 

“I know that you did that for my benefit, to level the playing field, so to speak.”

Cas hums in agreement as Dean continues licking and nipping his way down. His head leans to the side to keep Dean in his sight. He rubs his thumb over Dean’s cheek, affection focused solely on him.

“But please don’t question my motivation for being here. I came because I could not bear to be away from you, not because of what you could do for me.”

“Khorosho, dorogoy,” Cas whispers back. (Okay, honey.)

Making quick work of the belt and button on Cas’s pants, Dean rushes to get his fingers around the half erection that is growing quickly. The velvety foreskin is still covering the head of his cock, so Dean grasps it under the frenulum and runs the tip of his finger around the edge until it slips under. His tongue joins the gentle exploration, bringing moans of pleasure to his ears. He sucks the tender skin into his mouth, wiggling his tongue along the place where the skin connects. It drives Cas wild, and Dean adores hearing him lose control. Bucking up into him, Cas curses.

“I don’t know if I’ve forgotten what a prodigy you are at sucking cock or if you’ve gotten even better.”

“You must have forgotten because I haven’t had my mouth anywhere near a cock for almost a month.” Dean smirks up at him under cover of his lashes and licks down to the base, letting his nose bump along the shaft as he goes. 

  
“Christ. I am a lucky man.” Cas praises and drops a hand into Dean’s hair to fondle the soft strands. 

Nuzzling into him, Dean sucks one of his testicles into his mouth and rolls it before letting it out with a pronounced pop. “I’m the lucky one, Cas.”

“Over the past weeks, I’ve had several friends question my sanity. They all worry that I am going against Mikhail’s orders because I am hung up on a pretty face. ‘Forget about him. Find a Russian beauty to bed,’ they tell me.”

Dean’s brow furrows. “What do you say to that?”

Cas pulls Dean up to his feet as he stands. Walking him back towards the bed, removing clothes as they go, Cas keeps him occupied with searching, possessive kisses. When Dean hits the edge, Cas growls into the crook of his neck. “I tell them to mind their own fucking business.”

Cas leans down and Dean goes with the guidance until he is flat on his back. Cas’s hands and mouth are everywhere, reacquainting him with the golden skin dusted with light freckles that he can’t quite make out in this light. Worshiping lips dip lower, sucking at his nipple until Dean gasps. “I tell them that I didn’t fall for simple beauty. I fell in love with a god who is as strong, smart, and loyal as he is gorgeous.”

Dean sucks in a harsh breath at the confession, and Cas lifts his head. “Chto ne tak?” (What’s wrong?)

After he swallows around his emotion, Dean asks, “You love me?”

Cas’s face relaxes into the most gentle smile. “Of course I love you, vozlyublennaya.” (beloved)

Dean’s eyes are wide with disbelief and yearning. “Say it again.”

“I love you, Dean.” Cas kisses him, melting his tense muscles into pliant putty. “Ya lyublyu vas.” (I love you.)

“I love you, too.”

Cas hums his satisfaction. Their kisses slowly heat up from tender adoration they are trading back and forth with soft lips to a frantic desperate need that is accompanied by bruising fingers and sharp teeth.

“Fuck, Cas. I need you.”

“Do you want my mouth or my cock right now.”

“Fuck me. Please, baby. I need it.”

Cas shivers at the shaky plea. A guttural animal sound falls from his lips as he flips Dean over onto his stomach and yanks his hips back and up. Pulling the perfect globes of his ass apart, Cas descends on him like a starving beast. Salivating at the taste and feel of Dean giving way under his tongue, Cas moans. “So fucking good.”

Dean is panting, gripping the sheets and trying to contain the urge to shout his pleasure. “Yes, fuck,” he grits out, pushing his ass higher into Cas’s face. He is buried as deeply as he can get, his hands massaging the pert cheeks as he licks and sucks at Dean’s tight little knot of muscle. Pointing his tongue, he forces it to breach Dean, and a chorus of wails erupts in the room.

“Need you. Hurry.” Cas has never heard a sound so lovely in all his life. Dean is rocking back on his knees, arching his back in a delicious curve with eyes closed and lips parted, focusing on how wonderful Cas is making him feel. Pride bursts in the Russian’s chest. If he never does another good thing in his life, this one moment marks a life well spent.

It’s been too long since they’ve been together, so it takes more stretching to get Dean ready than it has since the first few times he fucked him. While Cas is impatient to have him, he would never hurt him, so he keeps working; listening to Dean beg and bargain, tightening the screws of his control. 

When his hands start to shake, Cas finally touches his cock to the sweet pink hole. “Yes, Cas. Please, baby!”

“You want my cock, Dean?”

“You know I do. Please.”

“Hold yourself open for me, sweetheart.” Dean shuffles to get his hands around his cheeks. His face is turned to the side and resting on the bed. Cas can sense the spark of mischief in that laser-focused gaze. 

Dean’s index finger runs around his rim, dipping into the open hole with a flirty rhythm. The tease does its job immediately. The Russian’s vaunted control snaps, and he is sheathed inside of Dean in a blink, releasing a filthy moan. 

“Your body is heaven itself, Dean.”

Running his hands down the length of Dean’s spine, Cas starts a slow pace of thrusts, letting his hands curl over the powerful shoulders for more leverage. Every time he bottoms out, Cas circles his hips in a filthy grind against Dean’s plump ass.

“Fuck. Forgot how big you are,” Dean pants and lets his head hang between his shoulders. “I’ll going to be limping into Moscow.”

Cas chuckles. “That should start some rumors flying.”

“Like they don’t already know you’re a big swinging dick.”

Cas laughs out loud. He pulls out and taps Dean’s hip to get him to turn over. 

When he’s on his back, Cas pulls on his legs to lift his ass up into his lap. He leaves one leg resting against his shoulder and sinks back into him with a sigh. Snapping his hips hard enough to force the air from Dean’s lungs, Cas lets himself feel the bliss of heat and constriction, of Dean’s body working his own into orgasm. 

“Cas,” Dean keens, his hands dropped into his hair to tug, letting the pain offset the incredible, breath-taking pleasure. “Perfect. Oh, fuck. So good.”

With a brutal pace set toward release, Cas wraps his hand around Dean’s beautiful dick only to have it knocked away.

“You’re going to come just on my cock?”

“Fuck, yes. In about five more seconds. You’re so damn hot. Fuck.” 

Looking down on Dean, eyes glazed with lust, face flushed and glistening, body bowed and tense but about to lapse into complete relaxation, Cas can’t imagine a more perfect vision. 

“Show me. Paint me in it,” Cas commands. 

Dean squeezes his eyes shut while higher, breathy sounds escape his slack mouth. “Yes, yes. I’m coming. Cas.”

Spurts of milky liquid shoot from the rigid, rosy cock. Cas’s mouth salivates as he watches. Slowing the pace, he focuses on the strong contractions milking him from within. Before the pulsing stops, Cas tips over the edge and fills Dean's inner channel with his own come. Collapsing onto his forearms, Cas licks up the underside of Dean’s spent cock and sucks on the head. Dean huffs out a curse as over-sensitivity sets in. 

“That was amazing.”

“I think so, too, malysh.”

“Absence may make the heart grow fonder, but let’s not spend that long apart again.”

“Agreed.”

Cas kisses his nose and they fade into fucked out kisses until all of their exertions and panting catch up to them. Parched mouths win out, and Dean convinces Cas to bring him a chilled water bottle. The generous man also brings back an assortment of snacks.

Their mattress picnic devolves into trying to launch food into each other’s open mouths with mixed results. 

After cleaning up, Cas turns out the rest of the lights and curls up around Dean’s warm, sated body. 

“When do we need to be up?” Dean asks through a yawn.

“Don’t worry. Rest, my love. I will wake you.”

Dean is asleep before he can reply.


	2. I Feel Like Cinderella

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little birdie told me that today is Janahill8722's birthday and that she wanted an update to this story. I can't deny the birthday girl, so here it is. Happy Birthday!
> 
> I might have to take a short hiatus from this story while I try to finish my DCBB story, but never fear, I will be back. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Dean has been in combat situations and prison too long to sleep heavily. He wakes as soon as Cas’s alarm goes off, sitting up immediately. Cas sets a hand on his back and he jumps, pulling out of his reach and turning.

Blinking owlishly, Dean comes back to himself and garbles, “Shit, I’m sorry, Cas.”

“Forget where you were, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, it’s been a long stretch of sleeping alone.” He yawns but crawls over to straddle the Russian. With a decidedly lewd smirk, Dean purrs, “You are so much better to wake up to.” 

Cas runs hands up Dean’s fit thighs and settles them with a squeeze along his waist. “I wish we had time to indulge ourselves, but our flight leaves in two hours. We’re barely going to make it as it is.”

“Why didn’t you wake me earlier then?” Dean questions as he leans over to run his lips against his tanned throat.

With a hum of pleasure, Cas replies, “You were exhausted, malysh. I wanted you to rest as long as you could.”

“I can sleep on the plane.” 

“You can sleep on planes?” Cas pulls a face.

“With enough alcohol and some Benadryl, I can sleep standing up.”

With a quirk of a smile, Cas pops him firmly on the ass cheek. “Get up. Now. We can’t miss this flight and risk the police coming to look for the escaped convict.”

  
Dean is almost done with his shower when he notices Cas watching him. His hands drift over his chest and stomach, trying to catch his interest. Cas licks his lips, his eyes tracking every movement.

“I thought you said we didn’t have time to play.”

“We don’t, but I can’t resist looking my fill of your stunning body. I’ve missed your beauty.”

Dean grins, but ducks under the water to rinse off one last time.

When he’s toweled off and has tucked the towel around his waist, he recognizes that Cas is anxious again, for the second time today. Anyone else would probably miss his tells, but Dean knows him well enough to catch tiny shifts in his expressions. Cas always holds his shoulders back and maintains eye contact despite how uncomfortable it makes other people, so his slouch and drifting eyes are tantamount to Cas running around screaming.

“What’s wrong?” 

Taking a deep breath, more to pull the freshly-showered scent of Dean into his lungs than anything else, Cas swallows roughly around his salivation and admits, “Before we leave, there is something else you need to know about your passport.”

Dean nods and waits. 

“Your last name is changed too.”

“I figured as much.”

Cas looks away, trying to approach this without making it into a big deal. “I chose Krushnic.”

All of the tension dissipates from Dean’s muscles as his jaw drops in shock.

Cas tries to blow past it, like he didn’t just level Dean with that simple statement. “I’m telling you now so that you aren’t surprised by it in customs.” 

Without waiting for the younger man’s reply, he stalks out of the bathroom. It takes Dean a few moments to catch up.

“Cas, you chose to give me your name?” Dean’s question is soft and hesitant, hopeful and fragile.

“Da.” (Yes.)

“Why?”

Uncomfortable with the depth of emotion that Dean makes him feel, he shrugs and zips the bag that he had brought for the other man, filled with clothes and necessities.

Why did you choose to make me related to you?”

“Because that is what I wanted. Why are you questioning my decision?” Cas doesn’t raise his voice, but he is definitely turning up the level of authority in it. If it was anyone else but Dean on the receiving end, they would be backing away by now.

Dean is unflappable. Cas can’t deny the guileless eyes on him. He is the epitome of vulnerability when he simply repeats, “Why?”

Cas sighs and relents. “Russia is behind the western world in some ways. Men are not allowed to marry each other. It is illegal to even have homosexual relations, as you already know. I have hope, though. Someday, I will want to give you my name in marriage. Until then, I will use this little act of rebellion to show you that your place at my side has nothing to do with the Bratva and everything to do with my love for you.”

Dean is overcome by the sweet proclamation. His own gaze watery, he asks another question that not only shows his belly but also bears his throat. “How do you know that you will still want me even in a year, let alone forever? We’ve been together for such a short time.”

That is a much easier answer for Cas to give. “Dean. I knew before you gave yourself to me. You had my heart in your hands from practically the very first kiss. I’ve never cared about a lover the way I care for you. Never.”

“What makes me so different?”

Cupping his jaw in both hands, Cas asks, “When will you be able to see yourself the way I see you? You are a righteous man stuck in a pathetic world filled with crime and hatred. You radiate strength and power. Everyone around you sees it but you.”

The blush on his cheeks makes Cas want to lay him out on the bed and worship him for days, their flight and escape from the country be damned. He rubs a thumb over the heated skin with a groan. “Oh, that is just gorgeous, dorogoy. I haven’t seen that shade of pink in so long.”

Rolling his eyes and backing away with a muttered curse, Dean grabs his clothes from the bed and pulls them on with agitation. 

“Don’t be mad, Dean. I love that my praise flusters you.”

“I’m not a blushing virgin, Cas,” he snips. 

A throaty chuckle approaches from behind him. When he is buttoning his pants, he feels the humid heat of Cas’s breath tickle his neck. “Well, you were before I got my hands on you.”

Dean shivers at the reminder of how much he has learned at this man’s hand. That same gentle hand pops him firmly on the ass and orders him to hurry up.

  
*****

  
Dean watches the ground rush up to meet them with a funny sort of nostalgia. He used to hate flying, but combat medics are in and out of helicopters too often to let that baseless fear stand in the way. When he was still in the army, he never let himself truly believe that he was really going home on leave until the wheels of the plane hit the ground. In this case, this is his new home. He’s going to be living in Russia. Part of him is terrified, but as soon as he turns to catch sight of Castiel, that fear settles. As long as they are together, he will be fine. His love and mentor always has his best interests at heart. 

Despite his talk about sleeping on the plane, Cas had a plenitude of work for him to do on the long trip. The Solntsevskaya Bratva, the largest in Russia, has a typical structure. The Pakhan is the head of the group, the Sovietnik runs all support systems for the group, the Obshchak is the head of security, and the Avtoritet, which is Cas’s position, is the counsel, advisor, and keeper of the law. The four of them act as the executive branch, for lack of a better term. 

Beneath this elite group is the Supreme Council, twelve men who make up the remainder of the leadership in Moscow. They each run their own crews that specialize in unique skills and businesses. Though they are fairly autonomous, they all must follow the Pakhan’s orders and owe him tribute. The council meets frequently, and will always convene for an important occasion. Apparently, Dean’s arrival in the country is enough to warrant a full meeting.

On the plane, Cas had handed Dean a binder full of information on the organization, complete with a detailed dossier on each of the council members. His simple command, “Memorize it.”

After Dean scoffed, Cas leaned over the seat and quietly stated, “Learn every word of this book, Dean. It is of utmost importance that you make a good impression at this meeting. You must know everyone’s identity, their history, what they do, where they live, who their spouses are. A mistake could cost both of us dearly.”

Understanding that Cas is sticking his neck out for Dean had never more obvious to him than at that moment. The seriousness in his eyes spoke of a trust that he has placed in Dean, a trust that could not be unfounded.

“I won’t screw this up,” he pledges. “I told you that I will make you proud, and I will.”

As he tried to match names and faces, Dean interrupted Cas’s work with questions from time to time.

“The Obshchak, Luka, is also a Krushnik? Is that a common name like Smith in America?”

Cas growled without looking up from his laptop, “Unfortunately not. I have to claim that miscreant as a blood relative.”

Dean’s brows popped up on his forehead. “Really? Who is -”

“My brother.”

His shoulders went stiff and Dean instinctively knew that this was a subject best left alone for now.

“I’ve heard enough about Ivan from Alexei, but I’m sure that Mikhail is the one that I should focus on. Can you give me some hints of how to handle my interactions with him?”

Cas nodded and turned to give his full attention to Dean. “Treat him with deference. Do not challenge him; do not question him.”

“He’s the king.”

“Exactly the way you should think. As far as you are concerned, he is.”

“He’s angry with you.”

Cas scrutinized him for a moment. “Yes, he is. This is the first time I’ve ever disobeyed his orders. I’ve given him counsel on many issues, but I have never once crossed him. I’m a friend, but power is everything to him, and he does not appreciate being ignored by his second. He is very angry, so we cannot give him reason to take it out on you.”

“I don’t want him to take it out on you, either.”

Cas pat his leg with a smile. “I have thick skin, dorogoy. I can handle his wrath.”

“I’ve faced down insurgents who were pointing rifles at my head for hours on end, I’m not going to break down in tears over some harsh words.”

“I’ve seen your courage under fire, Dean. I know you are capable. I also know that you have a smart mouth. You sass your superiors, and that cannot happen here.”

“Yes, sir.”

Cas rolled his eyes and shook his head. Dean caught some of his muttering, but his vocabulary is still growing. 

“What was that, angel?”

“You try my patience.”

Dean grinned. “Yeah, I know how much you love it.”

Once through customs, another car waits for them at the curb. Dean scowls at it without thinking. He should have expected it, but it’s been so long since he’s been behind the wheel of a car that he’d convinced himself that he’d be driving soon. When they are safely inside the vehicle, Cas asks quietly in English, “What’s wrong?”

Dean flicks his eyes up to the driver, who is definitely watching them through the rear view mirror, and then over to Cas. He chuckles and shakes his head. “Nothing, I was just hoping to drive. I miss it.”

“You can have a car, Dean. I just choose not to drive when I’m home. I’ll provide one for you.”

“Can I pick it?”

“Of course, but I will be present when you buy it.”

“I can buy a car on my own, Cas.”

“You do not know our ways, and my presence will assure that you are not taken advantage of.”

“Shouldn’t I be asserting my own dominance around town? How are they going to respect me otherwise?”

“Earning respect takes time. It’s a slow process.” 

“It’s cute that you’re worried about me,” Dean says coyly as he bats his lashes. Cas rolls his eyes and snaps open the paper that had been awaiting him on the seat. Although he isn’t keen on Alexander overhearing their private conversations, the man is a good employee.

Dean is watching the scenery avidly as they crawl through downtown. Moscow is a beautiful city, full of both ancient and modern architecture that blend together almost seamlessly. Cas is enjoying his voyeurism. He’s been reading the same article, hasn’t turned the page, since they arrived on the outskirts of town because he’s much more interested in the delight on Dean’s face. 

“I can’t believe how big the city is,” he murmurs without looking away from the window.

“You can see it all from my apartment.”

Dean turns and smiles just as they pull up to Cas’s building. Well, their building now. When Cas holds the door open for Dean, he strides through and forces himself not to come to a halt by what he sees. The lobby is easily three stories tall, filled with sculptures, lush green plants, and radiant gold fixtures. Even wearing the suit pants and shirt that Cas had picked out for him, he feels under-dressed for such a place.

“Does it meet with your satisfaction?” Cas asks quietly, teasing in his tone. He receives an annoyed huff, but it gets Dean moving. While he feels pride at Dean’s obvious admiration, he wants him to be awed by his home, not the lobby. 

The doors of the elevator open up in the middle of the apartment, which occupies the entire floor. Cas has seen enough of Moscow’s elite being awestruck by the view to know how special it is. They are facing Red Square and have a picturesque look down onto St. Basil’s Cathedral, which is a beloved icon of Russian culture. 

“Holy shit,” Dean whispers and wanders into the soaring living area. The wall is all window, glass as far up and over as he can see, so there is nothing at all to disturb the image. 

“It’s quite something, isn’t it?”

“Even from this height, it’s spectacular.”

“We’ll do all the sightseeing after you’ve settled in a bit. It’s beautiful up close, too.”

Dean grins, turning his gaze on Cas. “I can’t wait.” 

Cas lets him take in the room with it’s many separate sitting areas. The grand piano, the long, fully-stocked bar, the couches near the firplace, the gaming table. 

Dean runs a hand over his face. “Do you all live here together?” 

“No, this is my personal home.”

The blatant appreciation of the apartment turns to anxiety in a heartbeat. “Holy fucking shit, Cas.”

“How is this a home for one person?” Dean is slowly turning, marking the hallways that run in both directions from this cavernous room. 

A predatory smile creeps up as Cas steals the space between them. “I am very, very good at what I do.”

Nervous laughter tags along with Dean’s admission, “I knew that from the moment I met you. I just didn’t expect…”

“That I was a millionaire?”

Dean seems to choke on that word, his face dropping. “I don’t have two nickles to rub together and you live in a million dollar penthouse overlooking Red Square.”

“Thirty million, actually.”

His face pales even more beneath the lovely freckles that Cas admires so much up close. With a kiss on his ghostly complexion, Cas tries to distract him. 

“Come, let’s explore our home.”

Taking Dean by the hand, they head down one of the hallways, seeing the multiple guest bedrooms along the way. They barely even glance into them because they are not the focus of their lifestyle. They do dip into Cas’s office, as crisp and modern as the rest of the apartment. One wall is dominated by bookshelves, while the other continues the theme of plain, unobstructed glass. In the corner, a very large telescope sits pointing up at the stars. 

When they arrive in the kitchen, Dean is quite taken with it, mostly because it is the only rational part of the home that he’s seen so far. It’s a normal sized room for a couple of people occupying a space. Of course, the smaller kitchen table still seats ten people and the living area next to it is larger than Dean’s last apartment, but it is by far the coziest place they’ve seen. 

After that is the indoor pool which has not only a wall of windows, but is covered by glass as well. The chandelier sprawling out over it is the most gorgeous art piece in Cas’s home, and that’s saying something after what he’s witnessed in that night club of a living room. Dean wanders to the edge of the pool where the view overlooks the lights and life of the city. The only buildings tall enough to see into his apartment are too far away to see clearly. Again, Dean rubs his hand over his jaw, blinking frequently as if his eyes need a break from all the opulence so he can process it.

Frowning, Cas asks sincerely, “What is bothering you about this? I thought you would be excited about this place.”

“I feel like fucking Cinderella, Cas.” He’s looking down at the ground from his perch in the penthouse, feeling like a god watching over his creations.

Cas comes closer, resting his big hands on Dean’s shoulders. “It is not my intention to make you uncomfortable. If you don’t like it, we can look for -”

Dean turns instantly. “No, Cas. This place is amazing. It’s beyond anything I could have ever expected, but it’s your home. You’ve already made enough concessions to bring me here. Why would you even consider moving just because I’m a little awestruck?”

“Because I love you. I want you to be happy here. If this home doesn’t feel right, we will find one that does.” They tip their heads together, content to be as close as they can.

“You are the most generous man.” 

Cas harrumphes. “Don’t tell anyone. I have an icy reputation to uphold.” Moving away to continue the tour, he laces his fingers with Dean’s. 

“So I shouldn’t call you honey bear in front of the others?” 

“Not if you value your life, dorogoy.”

The master suite is expansive. They have a personal living space as well as the biggest bed Dean has ever laid eyes on. There is no way it is anything other than custom. The bed faces the windows, overlooking the horizon with no buildings marring the landscape. They could be the only two people in the city.

Dean sits down on the edge of the bed with a bounce to test it’s stamina. “This bed is worth the price of admission, Cas.”

Cas leans against the window, taking in the provocative sight of Dean on his bed. Licking over the edges of his teeth, his predatory smile returns. “Yes, it’s quite luxurious, isn’t it?”

Catching the lust in Cas’s eyes, Dean slides back to the center of the bed and pats the spot next to him. “Why don’t you come give it a try?”

Crawling over to the younger man, Cas takes in the sleek, fitted pants and tapered shirt open at the collar. He knew that Dean would clean up nicely, but he hadn’t anticipated how the bumps of his abs would create shadows and texture when the fabric pulled over them. He hadn’t dreamed that his broad shoulders would fight against the constraint of the expensive material so deliciously. Dean will have to have his shirts tailored to give him a perfect fit.

He can’t wait to see him in a full suit. Soon. So soon.

Hovering over Dean’s body, he kisses him before he lets his weight drop to cover him. Even touching him everywhere from head to feet isn’t quite enough. He needs skin. After a few lush kisses that fill his mind with desires he is anxious to recreate, he rolls off of him.

“Let’s go shower off this travel dirt and then we can really give this bed a workout.”

Dean wrinkles his nose. “Are you saying I stink?”

Cas belts out a laugh as he knee-walks over the edge. “No, I stink, myshka. I want to scrub off the rest of humanity before you put your lovely mouth on me.”

As the Russian walks, he divests himself of his own clothing. “Who says I’m going to be putting my mouth anywhere?” Dean snarks.

Tossing his shirt into the corner, Cas lets his pants pool at his feet. Apparently he goes commando in suit pants as well as prison uniforms. With hardly a turn, just enough to lock eyes, Cas states plainly. “I do.”

Dean can’t be upset with that pronouncement. He’s already drooling over the firm muscles of his back that taper so elegantly to his pert ass. He’d never call it that to Cas’s face, but it is bouncy perfection.

  
Their bed backs up against a freestanding wall in the center of the room. To the left, where Cas is heading, most of the master bath is located. It is the strangest, yet beautiful arrangement Dean has ever seen. A free standing glass shower enclosure is closest to them, with a sink made from a rocky pillar next to it. The true piece of art, though, is the tub sitting farther back under a glowing light. The shining porcelain is in a tall bowl shape. It is so deep that it must take forever to fill up.

“How about we forget the shower and take a soak in this monster.” Dean is leaning over the edge, admiring the size, when Cas appears behind him. He turns the taps to get the temperature right, and then with a wink heads back to the shower. 

“We’ll let it run. When we’re done getting reacquainted, it should be just about full. For now though, I want you in this shower so I can swallow your cock while I finger you open.”

“Jesus, Cas. You are even bossier now than when I was your prison bitch.”

The phrase is used in jest, and he thought Cas would find it funny. He’s most definitely wrong. Cas’s shoulders tense and snap backwards. 

“You were never any such thing,” he growls.

“Cas, I know. It was a joke.” 

With a lethal squint, Cas directs him into the large shower ahead of him. The water is steamy and fragrant with mint, eucalyptus, and herbs. Dean groans at how good it feels pounding on his chest. His body is loosening with each deep inhale, the heat and aromatherapy doing their job woderfully. 

He’s relaxing so easily that he he doesn’t expect the sudden crowding from behind as Cas walks him into the wall in front of them. He barely has time to brace himself with his hands before Cas wraps an arm around his waist, banding them together tightly. 

“Have I ever taken anything from you against your will?”

Fuck. Cas isn’t going to let this go. Keeping his tone respectful and gentle, he replies. “No, angel. You are always so generous.”

In response, Cas grips his hair tightly and pulls his head back onto his shoulder. “Have I ever forced myself on you?”

“No, no. I’ve begged you to take me.”

“Then why would you be so disrespectful as to insinuate that I would?”

“Cas, I swear. I was just joking. I know that you would never do anything like that.”

“Well, maybe I would. You’ve got me thinking.”

Kicking Dean’s feet apart to spread him wider, Cas shifts to hold him by the back of the neck.

“There. I was going to go down on my knees for you. Let you fuck my face while you blossom on my fingers. This is going to be so much more convenient for me.”

“Cas, c’mon. You don’t need to -”

“If I wanted your opinion, I would ask for it.”

That makes Dean click his teeth together. Damn. He’s only ever seen Cas this mad at him once before, when he suggested something similar. He’d be stupid not to be nervous. The man at his back is ruthless and brutal. He might love Dean, but respect is a commodity he values highly. 

After a few quick jerky movements, Dean feels a slick finger rub over his hole and shove inside. He tips his head against the glass, fogging it with his breath. He isn’t going to fight this because he sees no reason to. He can’t imagine a time when he wouldn’t say yes to Cas. He wants this, no matter how punishing it might be. 

“I think you were onto something, malysh.” Cas doesn’t wait to stretch him to his limits, slipping his finger into a crooked shape and pulling up on his rim. Dean curses at the burn, but it isn’t doing anything more than he would do to himself. In a quick exchange, Cas removes his finger and props the head of his cock in between Dean’s cheeks. Before their separation, Dean would have gladly impaled himself backwards onto the thick, uncut cock. Now, though, he’s almost virginal again. They fucked last night, but it was more lovemaking than anything. 

Now, Cas is going to tear him apart. In one firm push, he invades Dean’s body like he’s planting his flag. Dean huffs out a few panted breaths, his voice at least an octave higher than usual. His hands are fisted on the wall, his body tensing at the overfull sensation. 

“You are so goddamned tight, Dean.”

“Cas! You feel so good.”

He receives a growl in response. Cas pistons his hips out and back into Dean fiercely, forcing the air from his lungs. “This isn’t about you. I’m taking what I want from you.”

Dean can hear the ‘just like you insinuated’ that isn’t actually spoken. He probably should be upset that Cas is taking the reprimand to this extreme, but he can’t deny that being fucked like this is hot. His own dick is pulsing in time with the brutal pace, his balls tightening along with his belly. Cas is snarling filth in his ear, using Dean’s own body as leverage to fuck him harder.

Dean’s hands slip and he turns his face so that his cheek makes contact instead of his nose. It smarts, but only for a second. He’s opened up farther in this position, and he moans at the lightning strike inside of him. The position is targeting his prostate now, and all he can do is take it. He’s completely at Cas’s mercy, and it’s a marvelous feeling. 

“Fuck, yeah. Give it to me, Cas.”

He receives a squeeze on his hip as a warning to shut up. Cas has never fucked him this hard, and now that Dean knows he’s been holding back, he’s going to demand this intensity more often. 

A litany of Russian curses, praises, and oaths come drifting down to Dean’s ears as he is ravaged. Cas is close, he can tell because his reflection in the glass is showing his elegant neck tipped to the ceiling, tendons taut and tense in his neck. The gorgeous ink on his chest is distorted from the water on the glass, but Dean can see the tremble to the muscles underneath. 

He shifts his own arm to get a hand on himself, wanting nothing more than to come with Cas. Instead, the Russian snatches his wrist and pulls it behind him. Dean tries to wrench it free from Cas’s grip, but he receives the harsh command of “Shtull!” (Stop!) in his ear.

Cursing, Dean dips his head lower and drops it back to the glass. He’s going to let Cas have his way. If he wants to punish Dean, his anger is enough to make Dean penitent. Taking pleasure out of his reach isn’t something that Cas has ever done. Typically, his goal is the opposite. His thoughtful lover makes sure that Dean is sated and content before ever thinking of his own needs.

  
When Cas roars his release, Dean feels the warmth seep into him. He tries to push back to help Cas through the throbbing waves of orgasm, but he is held firm. He stays quiet, lets Cas pant through his exertions. All too soon, he pulls out, lets go of Dean’s body, and steps away. The shock of losing all connection to Cas makes him shiver. 

Turning slowly, he expects to see anger in his blue eyes, but instead finds hurt. Before Dean can apologize, Cas asks, “Have I ever given you any reason to think that I didn’t care about you above all others?”

Dean shakes his head, reaching out for his arm. “No, angel. You treat me like a king. You care for me even above yourself. It’s obvious that you love me.”

Cas relents and lets himself be pulled in for a gentle kiss. The tongues dance together languidly while Dean winds his arms around his back and neck, reassuring them both with touch. 

Cas pulls back and slides to his knees with intense eye contact. 

“Cas, you don’t -”

“I never had any intention of leaving you wanting, moya lyubov (my love).

Looking up through cover of his lashes makes Cas look almost coy, which means that the wolf has most definitely clothed himself as a sheep. Dean smiles at the way he teases. His fingers, covered in prison tattoos that terrify most people, are so delicate on his thighs, that he fights the urge to giggle and squirm away. Those lips, wide and pillowy, brush the tip of his cock with a barely there touch. Another kind of shiver rushes down his spine. The anticipation is killing him. 

“I love how eager you are, Dean. You wear your emotions so openly with me, which I treasure.”

“Do you treasure it enough to actually put your mouth on me?”

“Would you like me to suck you?”

“Very much.” Dean has to swallow a smart ass remark, because after the last thoughtless comment, he’s pushed Cas’s patience enough for one night. He’d rather not go to bed still hard and desperate.

The sudden suction around the head of his cock is mind-blowing, especially since he hadn’t noticed that Cas had moved. Then he slides down to the base. “Oh, fuck. Oh, shit. Damn, Castiel.”

His nose rubs against the short hair above Dean’s cock while he swallows his length. His gorgeous boy is coming apart at the seams already, their brief interlude not enough to completely derail his lust. Cas loves to watch him crumble, first with uncontrolled muscle twitches and next with nonsense words of praise. The flush that turns his chest a deep rose reaches almost to his navel. Cas covers his hip with a hand, letting his thumb drift in circles over that indention, which causes his abs to roll.

Knowing that Dean is trying to be as polite as possible at the moment, Cas guides his hand into his hair as his implicit permission. Dean isn’t a huge fan of face-fucking, but he loves to wind his fingers through Cas’s hair. 

In moments, Dean’s babbling turns into one singular thought. “Yes, yes, yes.”

Cas holds him upright through the shaking of a powerful orgasm. It lasts long enough to make pride rise in his chest. Dean is going to be a fucked out mess after this. As he licks Dean clean, he keeps his eyes on the long lashes that are resting on Dean’s cheekbones. Damn, he is the most beautiful creature on this earth. 

  
In the tub together, their muscles turn to jello. Dean leans into the crook of Cas’s neck and the rest of him is practically floating.

“We have tonight together, but tommorow, I have to bring you to the Pakhan.”

“That’s going to be awkward.”

“Exceedingly.”

Turning his face under Cas’s jaw, he inhales deeply. “What will I be expected to do?”

“His issue is with me, so polite introductions are likely all that will actually involve you.”

“Likely?”

Cas shrugs. “Mikhail can be volatile. I can’t always predict his reactions, especially when his emotions run hot.”

“And you’re sure that he’s butt hurt about you disobeying his orders?”

Barking out a surprised laugh, Cas asks, “Butt hurt?”

Dean smirks from his position. “Yeah, like how I’m going to feel tomorrow. You tore my ass up.”

“Dean,” Cas starts seriously, but Dean hushes him. 

“I’m just teasing, sweetheart. I enjoyed that tremendously. Totally on board.”

“Limping into the Supreme Council might not be the strongest introduction.”

Dean lifts his head and scowls. “Who’s fault is that?”

Cas shrugs. “Hindsight.”

Dean guffaws at the unintentional pun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are looking for something else to read, I have a few suggestions:
> 
> Interested in reading about Alpha Dean chasing Omega Cas all over Europe? Read [Following His Lead](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24065599/chapters/57915538)
> 
> How about a creature fic where Dean is half octopus and there is lots of consentacles? Read [Only a Salt Kiss Remains](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24375400/chapters/58789510)
> 
> Would you like to read about Dean finding new portal technology in the form of an angel statue? Read [What Frees Us](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23331346/chapters/55889659)
> 
> Perhaps you might enjoy a trip through history with Dean and an immortal Castiel? Read [Destiny is in Love with Effort](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19788436/chapters/46847512)


	3. The Puppy Doesn't Like His Cage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean meets the mob

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I broke this intended chapter in half because it's been a long while since I last updated, and I wanted to give you the meeting scene. It's a big one as far as plot goes, and I'm sure you can see some of the proverbial writing on the wall.
> 
> I also wanted to let you all know about a new bang that just opened for signups. It's called the Wayward Hunters Collabang (Collaboration + Bang), and I'm crazy excited about it. It might be because I'm not only a participant; I'm a mod!!
> 
> WHC is a multiship bang that focuses on collaboration between the writer and artist. We are gathering a fun group of people together to enjoy not only a great collaboration opportunity, but building an online community and making great friends.
> 
> If you're interested in finding out more, search the [WHCollabang Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/whcollabang)
> 
> We'd love to have you join us!

Dean firmly adheres to the lessons he has received from his mentors. He locks away all emotion; his face and body wearing nothing but contemptuous nonchalance. His lips are pinned down, a slight snarl curling one edge of his lip. His eyes are cold, icy despite their warm color. In this place, when he is with these people, he isn’t Dean Winchester anymore. He is Kir Krushnic, Castiel’s one and only Novobranets. 

He’s been informed that he will be resented and outright hated for the position Cas has given him, so much higher than everyone else. They will be watching intently, waiting for him to make an error so that they all might point it out and ridicule him. He cannot react; he cannot slip and show his temper. Being given this honor is a double-edged sword. He is favored by Cas, but hated by all others. He is given the opportunity to show his worth without years of struggling as he climbs the ladder, but he’s going to be scrutinized carefully and given an incrementally smaller margin of error.

Walking two steps behind Castiel and just to his right, they enter the hall where the Supreme Council meets. Mikhail Mashkorev owns this entire complex, which includes offices and meeting areas for all of the Solntsevskaya Bratva leaders. 

Dozens of men are milling around the open foyer, raucous Russian voices booming over each other as they chat. As soon as Castiel is noticed, cries of his name and welcome interrupt the flow of conversation. Taking their turns, all of the council members approach Cas and welcome him home personally. When their eyes move over Dean curiously, Cas formally introduces them. If they offer their hands, Dean takes them with an aggressively firm handshake. 

Being considered weak in any way to these men is dangerous. Cas warned him to always err on the side of violence if he’s unsure. He’d thought the redundant reminders and frequent questioning were a sign of Cas’s lack of confidence in him, but now he’s thankful for it. He isn’t feeling the least bit unsure of himself, even as he looks his potential enemies in the eye.

“Ilya, I’d like to introduce you to my Novobranets, Kir.”

“Mr. Prokilovich, it is an honor to meet such a renowned auto dealer. I look forward to learning from you.”

For every man, Dean has a number of rehearsed topics that he can use to chat them up. Just as Cas requested, he knows their businesses, their families, their personalities. For example, he knows that Ilya here has spent multiple years in prison for car theft, and that when he was just a boy, had his index finger cut off by an angry car owner that caught him. Now in his late forties, Ilya owns several garages that focus on racing and renovation, and a high end dealership. His crew runs into the hundreds, and he is known as a fair boss. He is the one that Dean is most looking forward to working with.

“Do you know cars?”

“Yes, sir. I grew up working on them. I can take an engine apart and put it back together with my eyes closed.”

“American cars.” He says in a derogatory tone.

“Yes, but German ones, too. I rebuilt my first Mercedes before I could grow facial hair.”

The gruff Russian lifts his lips in an almost smile, his eyes dancing with interest. “Well, that can’t be that long ago now, can it. I barely see a shadow on that chin.”

All three of the men laugh goodnaturedly as Ilya pats his cheek. Dean breathes a sigh of relief, internally, that his accent isn’t too hard to understand. It’s taking some adjustment from the Russian he learned in America. His teachers were all from Russia, of course, but they’d been in America a long time, and their native tongue was changed by adopting other languages. 

He might not be so screwed after all. As soon as the thought crosses his mind, he tries to yank it back. He’s not usually one to be so brazen with challenging the universe. 

The door at the back of the hall opens just then, and a man in a flashy suit steps out. All conversation ceases, and the silence is disquieting. Even if Dean didn’t know who this was, it would be obvious that he is a man of great power. His eyes drift over the groups of men bunched together and stop when they reach Cas. He tenses, his jaw setting unhappily.

“You may enter,” he says formally.

The group funnels into the hall, offering brief greeting to their Pakhan as they go in. 

Cas waits his turn, but the closer he gets, the more tense he gets. Dean moves closer at his back, gives him a touch of contact and then moves back. It isn’t significant enough to be noticed by anyone else, but it does its job. Cas’s shoulders loosen and settle. When they get to the front of the line, Mikhail turns to block the door. Cas stops a short distance away, well within his personal space and waits. 

“You’re back from your rebellion. I expected you to call and beg forgiveness before showing up here.”

“Why would I do that? I have nothing to apologize for.”

“I gave you a direct order.”

“No, Ivan told me that you denied my request. You couldn’t be bothered to speak to me directly.”

Dean hasn’t moved since the interaction began, doesn’t dare to so much as breathe and call their rancor upon him. This tension between them is partially on him, but this rift goes far beyond this one act. Cas is resentful of Mikhail and the Pakhan is scared of Castiel. This relationship is ripe for festering and it appears that Dean was just the nail that allowed the crack to reveal itself. 

“Why is he here? Do you think to rub him in my face?”

“He is my Novobranets.”

Mikhail laughs at that. Loudly and uproariously “So you bring your puppy here and expect us to train him?”

“He’s no more a puppy than I am, Mikhail.”

“Dima, surely you realize that he is barely out of diapers. I know you like them young, but this is almost obscene.”

The crackling of energy between them is rising, but Dean cannot react. This shift in tactics is designed to be insulting, and Cas is close to letting his temper loose, which is not at all like him.

“This is not about our personal relationship. I wouldn’t bring the man I’m fucking to this council. It would not be his place. He is here in his capacity as my Novobranets.”

“So when he is standing he is to be taken seriously? Just not when he is on his knees, is that it?”

Dean doesn’t move his head or expression, but he looks over the room. They couldn’t have chosen a more public and humiliating place to have this argument, and he’s completely certain it's by design. The other men are torn between enjoying the spectacle and being concerned over the very personal disagreement between their normally stoic leaders. 

“I understand that you are angry with me, and you are entitled to your anger. But he has done nothing to earn this disrespect. As a recruit brought to you by your second, he deserves better treatment than this.”

Mikhail’s eyes are dancing, even as he looks over at Dean. “I apologize. Where are my manners. I am Mikhail Mashkorev. I am the Pakhan of the Solntsevskaya Bratva. Welcome.”

He offers his hand, and Dean takes it firmly. “It is a distinct honor, sir. Kir Krushnic.”

Mikhail shows just enough emotion to let Dean see his shock register before it dissipates. He didn’t expect Cas to bring him into his family. The Pakhan does not let go of his hand, but looks down at the tattoos that adorn it. Specifically the band with Cas’s mark and the angel wings. 

“That was fast. Did you have a ceremony in America before you left? I’m sure you made a lovely bride.”

Dean controls the flush that wants to rush to his face, just as he controls everything else. He breathes; he lets the words roll over him and away. They don't matter. They are only weapons if he allows them to be.

“It’s symbolic,” Cas bites out.

“Well, Vrach, let’s get to know you.” He releases his hand and gestures him into the room. Cas follows, and guides him to take open seats. 

Dean walks in, tall and proud, despite the entire council being witness to him being called a puppy, an infant, a fuck toy, and a wife. He expected some hazing, particularly here with the leadership, but honestly it’s no worse than what he received in prison. A year ago, he would be throwing fists at anyone who dared insinuate he was another man’s lover. It’s one of the many things he’s had to come to terms with since meeting Cas. 

There’s nothing inherently masculine or not masculine about being gay or bisexual. It simply is. He’s just as manly, just as virile, and he’s a whole lot more satisfied. Cas would be worth any type or amount of humiliation they might think to heap on him, but he somehow doubts that the homosexual relationship bothers them all that much. Cas is very openly gay, and apparently that hasn’t hindered him in the slightest. It's simply the easiest thing to use to humiliate him. The Pakhan is using his sleights to get under his skin, to make him break. He’s underestimating Dean based on how young men typically react. He’s in for a shock.

“Thank you for coming, my friends,” Mikhail booms from the seat in the front of the room. “As you all must know by now, we have a new recruit. If you have not already been introduced, I expect you to make yourself available before you leave. For now, though, I would like to invite Krushnic’s Novobranets to come and speak to us.”

Cas tenses beside him, but Dean chuckles. Speaking in English to hide their private talk from listening ears, Dean comments as he stands. “Don’t worry, Cas. I won’t embarrass you.”

Cas looks over his shoulder to catch his gaze. His smile is warm. “I have complete confidence in you. I’m about one snide comment away from punching him, though.”

With a wink, Dean buttons his suit jacket and proceeds to the front of the room. For a suit that he had altered on the spot early this morning, it fits perfectly.

Mikhail doesn’t wait even a moment before he requests for Dean to tell the council about himself. This situation is every young man’s worst nightmare. Being asked to speak to a room full of your superiors on the spur of the moment? Torture. Ask them to speak in a second language? Nauseating. 

Dean isn’t about to let Mikhail or any of rest of them see him flounder. He’s going to charm their proverbial pants off. 

“Good morning. I’m Kir Krushnic. No, I was not born with that name, but I will die with it." He catches Cas's eye as he says it, and feels the other man's strength bolster him. "I came from America, but I’ve pledged my life and my service to you. Think of me as an adopted son, if you will.”

Interrupting, the Pahkan prompts, “Tell them how you came to be here.”

“I met Mr. Krushnic in prison, where he took me under his protection.”

“Why was that necessary? You cannot fight your own battles?” 

Dean smiles. “I saw an injustice being done, so I acted for the greater good. I had a hundred nazis very upset with me, and Krushnic’s name protected me from their vengeance.”

“He’s being modest. He put four men in the hospital and came to me without a scratch on him.” Cas’s casual comment sends murmurs of appreciation through the group. 

“I was known there as Vrach.”

“Why is that?” a voice from the other end of the table asks. 

“I was a combat medic and worked as a doctor in the prison clinic.”

“Combat? You were military?”

“Yes, I was.” The murmurs of appreciation dim. He knew this might be a sticking point. 

“I know it is against the Thieves Code, but please understand the differences in our countries. In America, there aren’t many options for poor men. Either you choose manual labor and never make enough to get ahead, or you find a way to go to college, whether you have to beg, borrow, or steal. The military was my only real option. If I had lived in Russia, I would have had the Bratva as an option, and that would have been my choice.”

The rumblings come to a close, and he sees several men nod in understanding.

“Why were you in prison?” The Pahkan asks.

“I was working in security and some of my coworkers were stealing from clients.”

“You did not?”

“No.”

“So you went to prison for their crimes? That is -”

“Loyal,” Dean interrupts. “I stood with them despite what it cost me.”

Mikhail doesn’t seem very happy with the direction of the questioning, so he hits below the belt. Directly below.

“I've never had the opportunity to speak to one of Krushnic's lovers. They are usually being escorted out the door before the come has cooled. I’m sure we’re all curious. How is he in bed?”

With a wry smile and no hesitation at all, Dean simply states, “Exceptional.”

Heads are turning between he, Cas, and Mikhail, but no one utters a word. Cas looks on with murderous intent in his eyes. 

“Well, it’s safe to say that I don’t need to ask Dima the same question.” Mikhail leers as he looks over Dean’s body. “There’s nothing to find fault with.”

Cas is about to explode; Dean can sense it from where he stands. He has got to rein it in or this kind of teasing will never stop. 

Looking back at their leader, he sees disappointment and calculation. He’s going to have to be incredibly careful around Mikhail until he tires of this feud. With a wave, Dean is dismissed.

Sitting back down at Castiel’s side allows him to relax. He knows that he’s being watched and judged, but he also knows that he’ll have time to get to know these men, and they will see his worth. He nudges his leg into Cas's, trying to offer him comfort. Mikhail has not only publicly made light of their relationship, called Cas a slut, and questioned his motives for choosing Dean; he's also tried to make Cas jealous. This is going to be the end of their friendship if he doesn't stop.

The council moves on to other business now that Mikhail has had his fun trying to embarrass the new recruit. Pavel Lebedev, one of the bankers in the group, has had another of his banks robbed. They know that it is the Tambovskaya Bratva that is responsible because they are allied with the Chechen mafia. Lebedev is Chechen himself, and he is often the brunt of their attacks. They consider him a traitor, despite the fact that he’s lived in Moscow his entire adult life.

Luka Krushnic, Castiel’s brother and the Obshchak, or head of security, wants them to add visible security forces to all of the banks, but Lebedev doesn’t want them scaring away customers.

The two men argue and each speak their peace before Mikhail holds up a hand to request silence. 

“I have heard you both, but I am not convinced that either of you are seeing the entire picture.”

He looks around the table, scanning each face. “Kir, what is your opinion on this matter?” 

It surprises Dean that he’s back in the spotlight already. "May I ask some questions before I decide?”

“Of course,” the snake-like smile responds. He’s never had anyone hate him so openly except maybe Alastair and his crew.

“Someone said that ‘another’ of his banks were robbed. Is this the work of the same group?” He directs the question to Lebedev. 

“We believe so.”

“Believe? Has no investigation taken place?”

The Obshchak laughs. “The police do not get involved in our business.”

“I wasn’t asking about the police. Of course they wouldn’t be called. Do you not handle your own investigations?”

Luka stiffens at the question and responds, “When we deem them necessary.”

“And Luka never deems them necessary,” Mikhail almost snarls.

To get back on track, Dean asks, “Would I be correct in assuming that many of you have your money in these banks?”

Without hearing the answer from Lebedev, he sees assent around the room in nodding heads. “I think that if this group is responsible for even one attack on a bank that carries Solntsevskaya money, it is an attack on the brotherhood and cannot pass.”

“You know nothing of our ways,” Luka charges in, spit flying in his anger.

“Don’t I?” Dean challenges, iceberg calm.

In the silence, Mikhail confirms. “This act that you recommend would send us to war.”

“Isn’t this brotherhood worth defending? If you don’t maintain the perimeter, you will lose ground.”

“Would you condemn these men to die on a battlefield to protect money?”

Dean shakes his head. “This is not about money. It should be the same response no matter what part of our businesses are attacked.”

“Our?” Mikhail scoffs. 

“Am I not a member of this group? Do you not intend to use me as a soldier and benefit from my profits?”

While Dean maintains his composure, Mikhail’s mask slips. Damn. He’s really making friends here today. 

“I think it’s time to put the puppy back in his cage,” the Pakhan snarls at Cas.

The Avtoritet chuckles. “You were the one who invited his input. It’s not his fault nor mine that he is more intelligent than you gave him credit for.”

Cas had warned him, over and over, about deferring to Mikhail in all things. He is trying. He is most certainly curbing his tongue and keeping himself on the cautious side of respectful. It’s been a continuous struggle since they’d met, though. He isn’t sure why, out of all these men, he is the one who leads them all. He’s prone to fits of petty vengeance. They would be much better off with Cas at the helm.

Looking at the cool confidence on Cas’s face, the calculating stare in his piercing blue eyes, Dean’s heart does a little flip. He is most definitely the Authority here.

  
*****

  
The men greet him more openly after the meeting, which he holds as a very good sign. His first day in front of his new brothers, although Mikhail meant to use it to humiliate him, appears to have earned some hard-won respect. Instead of showing him vague interest because of his place at Cas’s side, they seem almost eager to get some face to face time. 

The rest of the leadership do not stay to socialize, not that Cas is at all surprised. Ivan was the one who was closest to Bartholomew, and no doubt, word of his death has reached his ears. After the embarrassment that both Luka and Mikhail called upon themselves by underestimating Dean, he watches them leave with their tails between their legs, too. 

Cas has been complacent too long with the way Mikhail has been letting things slide. The Pakhan has always tended toward lazy, and if he’s honest, it’s apparent how much back-sliding has happened in Cas’s absence. Once he gets over his little snit, Cas will sit him down and they will plan how to best repair what has been left to rot. If this many problems were brought up during the long-winded meeting, surely there are about a hundred others that haven’t had light shed on them yet. There’s a lot of work to be done. After all, it’s never a good idea to let thieves run the treasury, and this particular treasury runs into the billions.

Watching Dean interact with Sasha Vasilevsky is telling. The man is gregarious and lewd in the best of times, and a violent sociopath in the worst. Dean’s shoulders are back, telling Cas that he is on his guard. Nothing else in his demeanor gives away his reticence, though. Hands in his pockets, charming grin on his face, he doesn’t seem to have a care in the world. Cas knows that the look in his eyes is wary and watchful. 

Once he got used to the idea, he knew that Dean would be a phenomenal addition to the Bratva, but after seeing his fearlessness in sticking to his convictions, he feels pride bursting in his chest. He should be listening to what his friend, Maksym, is telling him, but he can’t keep his eyes away. Dean’s pull on him is magnetic, and he finds the first stopping point to excuse himself. 

Approaching Dean, he begins to pick up bits of their conversation. Ilya, Nikolai, and Sasha are all debating who Dean should come and work for first. Part of his job as Novobranets will be to work within each of the twelve crews that make up the Supreme Council. Technically, it is Mikhail’s job to decide who he works with and when, but Cas doubts that he has much interest in the task, so he’ll gladly take on the responsibility for him. 

“Brothers,” Cas greets to make his presence known. “He will take his turn apprenticing in each of your crews, as is expected. But I need him to work with Ilya first.”

Turning to the man who is grinning at being given preference, he says, “Dean needs a car. If I know him, he will not want something new and off the showroom floor.” 

Cas glances at Dean for corroboration. The lidded pools of lust licking over him are agreement enough.

“Bring him as soon as you want, Dmitri. I will make time to find the perfect project for him.”

“In two days?” He breaks the connection with Dean reluctantly to see Ilya’s response. The man nods with a warm smile. 

Looking around the group, he gives a curt nod and dismisses them with a single word. “Gentlemen.”

They scatter into other groups and allow Cas to guide Dean out of the hall with a light touch at the small of his back. When they are just far enough away to avoid being overheard clearly, Dean switches to English.

“Have I told you lately how much of a fucking turn on it is to see you command a room?”

Cas hums his pleasure at the rich timbre of his voice. “Have I told you how sexy you are when you are are pushing all of my boss’s buttons?”

Dean chuckles and pushes the elevator call button. “Oh look, another one.”

Cas makes the rude sound that Dean has come to associate with Russian disapproval. “That was terrible.”

Leaning in close to Castiel’s ear, he whispers, “So, I’m not in trouble for riling up half of the leadership on my first day?”

Glancing down at his tenting trousers front, Cas comments, “You’re well on your way to riling up three quarters of us.”

Dean mimics the rude noise to the best of his ability, and rolls his eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While you're waiting for the next installment, can I suggest some reading options?
> 
> Interested in reading about Alpha Dean chasing Omega Cas all over Europe? Read [Following His Lead](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24065599/chapters/57915538)
> 
> How about a creature fic where Dean is half octopus and there is lots of consentacles? Read [Only a Salt Kiss Remains](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24375400/chapters/58789510)
> 
> Would you like to read about Dean finding new portal technology in the form of an angel statue? Read [What Frees Us](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23331346/chapters/55889659)
> 
> Perhaps you might enjoy a trip through history with Dean and an immortal Castiel? Read [Destiny is in Love with Effort](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19788436/chapters/46847512)

**Author's Note:**

> If you are looking for something else to read, I have a few suggestions:
> 
> Interested in reading about Alpha Dean chasing Omega Cas all over Europe? Read [Following His Lead](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24065599/chapters/57915538)
> 
> How about a creature fic where Dean is half octopus and there is lots of consentacles? Read [Only a Salt Kiss Remains](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24375400/chapters/58789510)
> 
> Would you like to read about Dean finding new portal technology in the form of an angel statue? Read [What Frees Us](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23331346/chapters/55889659)
> 
> Perhaps you might enjoy a trip through history with Dean and an immortal Castiel? Read [Destiny is in Love with Effort](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19788436/chapters/46847512)


End file.
